


Speak Easy, Lie Gently

by Danmujiji



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Exes, Exes to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danmujiji/pseuds/Danmujiji
Summary: Kenma’s invited back home to celebrate Christmas. Unbeknownst to him, his parents had invited a guest: his ex-boyfriend.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 54
Kudos: 554
Collections: Recommended KuroKen Fics





	Speak Easy, Lie Gently

“Hey.”

Hearing his voice was a gut-punch. Kenma stopped, frozen still at the front door. Light and warmth emanated inside, and yet he’d rather stay out in the dreary December cold he hated so much. The obstacle between him and warmth was Kuroo, and he should know just how much this situation would annoy Kenma. Being out on a cold evening, “invited” by family on a holiday (of which Kenma wanted to spend inside playing games), and a _stranger_ just had to be involved.

Kuroo’s face was apologetic, as apologetic as grins went. An uneasy grimace begging Kenma to hurry up, come inside, and _play along._ All Kenma gleaned from it was that he didn’t want to be here like him, and it annoyed him that after all this time he could still tell. Even when Kuroo was a little different: a little taller, voice deep like an adult’s, and the lines of his face had turned sharper over the years; his jawline, his cheeks, had become more mature. And in noticing all these, Kenma had failed in trying to ignore his presence. His brow twitched. 

Kenma’s parents were waiting inside just behind Kuroo and from the looks of their eager faces they had expected Kenma to be happy or at the very least surprised by the fact Kuroo was here in the flesh, about to celebrate Christmas with them. 

“Hey,” was all he said to Kuroo. All he _allowed_ himself to say. He walked past Kuroo without so much as a “Merry Christmas” or “How are you?” 

Asking “What the fuck are you doing here?” would have been too suspicious anyway. And most likely his parents had asked Kuroo to be here, likely to ‘surprise’ him. He had to give it to them; his heart was still palpitating from seeing Kuroo at the doorway, and his throat had gone dry. 

He sighed, taking off his shoes by the foyer and unlooping the scarf from his neck. As he began shrugging off his jacket, he felt Kuroo’s gaze follow him. He resisted the urge to glare at him to knock it off. 

“Kenma, don’t be so impolite,” his dad said, a smile on his face pressuring Kenma to act properly. 

“Your father’s right,” his mom chimed in. Her smile was threatening. 

“Nah, it’s all good,” Kuroo said, rubbing behind his head. “You know how Kenma is,” 

_Ugh._ Kenma rolled his eyes. He wanted to go upstairs and lock himself up in his old room. It felt insulting to have Kuroo defend his mannerisms like old times, and it was even more annoying how his parents bought it every time. As long as it came from “Tetsu-kun” Kenma could act how he wanted. There was a time when something like that was convenient. So he wasn’t surprised when his parents let it go and ushered them off to the dining table. He tried avoiding Kuroo's eyes on the way to the dinner table, he really did, but once they were seated, he had the misfortune of being placed side by side. _This is good,_ he told himself. _This way I can just stare at my food,_ and maybe then he could just wait for things to tide over and could immediately go home after this. Already in the back of his head were excuses. Work came up, train schedules, or hell, another party his friends invited him to. If they asked who, he’d say it was… Yoshimura, or whatever. He didn’t actually know any Yoshimuras but they’d just have to take his word for it. 

“So Tetsu-kun, how was America?” 

He did not want to hear this right now. So he stared at his plate of fried chicken and focused on the sound of his utensils against the plate, or how bland and doughy the food was. The soda fizzing in his throat. Sweet, sugary... and painful. 

“Kenma, don’t you have anything to say to Tetsu-kun?” 

Fuck. There’s no way to get out of that one. 

Worst of all was, he had many things to say to Kuroo. Painful things, angry things, regretful things, all of which he couldn’t say in front of his parents who never knew they dated in the first place. Until now he had been pretending they kept in contact and talked regularly over the phone, and he just told his parents he already heard whatever Kuroo told him prior. Pressure built up in his throat but he forced himself to swallow.

“...Merry Christmas, I guess.” Saying it felt like spitting out regurgitated food. 

“Kenma,” his mother smiled, and Kenma averted his eyes. 

“There’s no need for all that, auntie. He and I’ve been keeping in touch since I left. It’s like nothing changed, s’why he’s acting all normal,” he lied, so so smoothly. They hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Still, you’d think he’d be more excited seeing his best friend’s finally back…” 

“Well, he’s never really been the type to show his feelings.” Kuroo laughed. 

Kenma gripped his fist under the table. Kuroo was getting on his nerves just being there, but now he was purposefully making jabs at Kenma. Unfortunately for him, dinner was nowhere near halfway finished. And as much as he wanted to sit there in silence, stewing in his annoyance until it had burnt itself out into a hardened lump, his parents were insistent on including him in the conversation. How was his business doing? How was his side job? How were the stocks coming along? And he’d tell them they were doing much the same as he usually told them whenever they checked up on him, and that there was no need to go into detail because he’s already told Kuroo everything over the phone. 

It wasn’t pettiness to exclude the details of his life from Kuroo. He was simply taking advantage of the lie from earlier. Neither was it pettiness to give curt one-word replies, or ignore some questions. It wasn’t pettiness to let his sour attitude get in the way of this supposedly ‘lovely’ Christmas dinner. He was trying his best to cope with it, dammit. And there Kuroo was, desperately trying to pick up after him and keep up the energy. All Kenma wanted to do was tell him to stop, _you don’t have to do that anymore,_ and yet he kept right on, and it brought nothing but guilt and resentment to Kenma. 

“You know, Christmas is usually meant for lovers,” Kenma’s mother commented, oh-so-casually. “Have you started seeing anyone, Tetsu-kun? Kenma?” 

Kuroo chuckled and told her he just got back in the country, so there wasn’t really time for all of that. Kenma mumbled the same sentiments of being too busy with his business and all. He pushed down the curiosity rearing inside of him, of Kuroo and his love life, and settled for silence as he chewed on his chicken. 

Dinner ended on a lukewarm note, but it ended at least. Kenma handed his parents their Christmas gifts (a new coat and a nice pair of gloves for his mom, and a nice Fujifilm camera for his dad) and told them he should really get going, because the last train for his commute home was leaving soon, and no, he wasn’t going to stay the night. Not with Kuroo in the house.

“Then let’s have Tetsu-kun walk you to the station, at least. This way the two of you can finally have some time to yourselves,” 

Unfortunately for Kenma, his father agreed, and this was one of those cases where Kuroo couldn’t wheedle his way out, because they mentioned he was also taking the subway back to his apartment anyways. A new one somewhere in Shinjuku which he had taken up a lease for because he was going to work at a hospital there. Of course, Kenma didn’t know that. He was already supposed to have known that. They were best friends who had kept in touch throughout the years, after all. 

“Take your time and walk around the neighborhood!” His mom smiled. 

He wouldn’t be doing that, but he nodded along anyway and finished wrapping his scarf around his neck. Again Kuroo’s gaze was on him, burning the back of his neck, and he remembered how Kuroo used to tie it back for him, all perfect and snug. With an angry huff he tucked the ends of his scarf in his coat and stepped outside. Kuroo did much of the same, filling in the parts Kenma had neglected. Thank you for dinner. Merry Christmas. We’ll be going now. 

As cliche as it would be for him to snap at Kuroo and tell him to keep his distance, or take a roundabout way to the station so he could finally be _alone_ with his thoughts and feelings, he knew it was useless. He wasn’t enough of an asshole to make a guy walk an extra thirty minutes in the cold during Christmas, but neither was he about to make conversation. _Get it over and done with,_ he told himself, pulling up his scarf over his nose as he began trudging up the street. His feet felt like lead, then he felt drained from what he had just experienced. The cold stabbed his legs and he kept his fists balled firmly deep within the pockets of his jackets. Behind him Kuroo’s shoes crunched against the pavement and he absolutely hated how it eventually fell to match his, just like all the times they walked to school together, Kenma in front with his head ducked over his PSP, and Kuroo just behind him, yawning. Thoughtless days that now weighed heavily on his mind as they retraced the same steps. 

It hasn’t taken too long for Kuroo’s pace to match his. He had longer legs and was always the more agile of the two, always the one with more energy, with more to give. The more he thought about it, the more his throat constricted, the more difficult it was to breathe, and the more it was easy for the chill to settle into his lungs, painful and---

Ugh. 

“Slow down,” 

Kenma stopped. “What.” He couldn’t stop himself, and he grit his teeth. 

“I’m just saying, there’s no need to be in such a rush,”

Yes, there was. This was unbearable, and he wanted to go home and get on a train. The sooner he got away, the sooner he could stop seeing and hearing Kuroo. He’d even go through the trouble of taking another line if it meant they weren’t going to share a train together, because their destinations just so happened to share the line. 

Kuroo sighed. “Come on. Don’t tire yourself out now, Kenma-kun,” he said. He’d always added “-kun” whenever he was teasing, but now was not the time as Kenma gripped his fists tighter in his pockets. So he met Kuroo’s face with a silent glare, and he recognized this as a sign to quit it. “Fine, fine,” he said. “I’ll keep quiet.” 

Only for him to make noises at Kenma a few moments later. 

“You know I think I did pretty well back there, carrying the conversation like that.”

“I mean it’s not like I’m not used it,”

“I’m always the one who’s got to do the heavy lifting when it comes to---”

“What do you want from me?” Kenma hissed through grit teeth. And when he saw Kuroo’s expression, that shitty smirk that said _“I win,”_ it told him that Kuroo had already gotten exactly what he wanted. 

“A Merry Christmas,” he said. “I want you to say it. It’s the least you can do, Kenma-kun~” 

He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to do that as there was nothing ‘merry’ about this Christmas at all. 

“And I bet you’re thinking right now, ‘there’s nothing ‘merry’ about this Christmas,’ aren’t you?” 

Fuck, he was so annoying. How he managed to put up with this for a vast majority of his whole life was beyond him, and right now all he wanted was to put it behind him. Kuroo Tetsurou however, was, as everyone knew, persistent as hell. Hell, he had a rep for being a persistent read blocker back in high school, and he had polished his skill even more when they were in uni, even after Kenma had stopped playing. He wondered if Kuroo still played volleyball, the thought lasting a full second before he crammed it down into the recesses of his mind. He didn’t care. Kuroo could go play volleyball all he wanted, and thank god he didn’t have to drag Kenma to meet his expectations about it anymore. 

“Just what are you doing?” Kenma’s voice came with the rough edge of frustration. 

“Making conversation,” Kuroo answered simply. “It’s been three years now, hasn’t it? I’m just trying to be civil, so c’mon and indulge me a little here, it’s Christmas.” He smiled, sincerely, and Kenma sighed. 

Fine, he’ll be civil. 

But only because being civil was the better alternative compared to Kuroo annoying him. 

_Well go on then,_ he thought, nudging his head towards the road.

Kuroo smiled like he was pleased, and asked without missing a beat, “So, a business huh? Spare me some details, Kozume-sama,”

Still not liking that smarmy tone of his. “It’s just a small corporation named Bouncing Ball. I founded it two years ago, and--”

“Wait, wait, you _founded_ it? _You’re_ the CEO?” Kuroo’s face broke out into grins. Real ones, that pushed his cheeks up and had him closing his eyes. “That’s amazing!”

Kenma’s heart skipped a beat. “I-it’s nothing,” he mumbled. 

Suddenly having half of his face behind his scarf wasn’t such a good idea. Wasn’t it just cold a second ago? “What about you then?” He asked, just to veer Kuroo’s attention away from him. Just to know how much of America changed him. Just to know how much of him he could discard and disregard once they had reached the station. To take up time, Kuroo talked a great deal about America and how much he had to adjust. And he kept making comparisons between here and there; the people, so blunt and forthwith, the food with their humongous servings, the cars, the culture, and right now he pointed out the difference of the crowded, noisy nightlife teeming with people even long after stores had closed (and nightclubs taking their place) with Nerima, which was quieter and tamer. Of course there were places that were bright and active like Ikebukuro after-hours, though more subdued and controlled in their noise. In America, just about anything and everything happened; people moved on, and so it became part of life. 

“Maybe that’s why people think anything’s possible there, because let me tell you, they are _wild_ back there.” He said with a wild chuckle. “Maybe just a bit too much for me. I missed Japan.” He took a lungful of that crisp night air and sighed, fog disappearing around his lips in an instant. 

“Sounds like you had fun at least,” he said, keeping his voice free from bitterness. 

Kuroo said something in perfect English. Maybe he hoped Kenma wouldn’t understand if it was in a different language. And truth be told, Kenma wasn’t good enough with it to make conversation, but he was no idiot and he caught the words “I,” “think,” “stay,” and “here.” He could only speculate what went on in between. The smallest pinprick of guilt and regret had poked a hole in Kenma’s heart, and it allowed a dot of hope to shine which he buried the instant it had appeared. 

Kuroo changed the topic with a wave of his hand. “Anyways, fill me in with what’s going on with people here,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Got busy taking my masters, and stuff.”

So Kenma did. He told Kuroo what was going on, mostly with the former Nekoma members like Tora and Fukunaga. Kuroo had kept in contact with Kai and Yaku, humming in agreement when he mentioned them. As for the rest, he wasn’t completely up to speed but knew vaguely what they were doing. Not a lot of them had something to do with volleyball, and Kuroo knew that much when they were still students, but he was glad everyone was doing alright. When that line of conversation ended, somehow Kuroo managed to keep him talking, and somehow Kenma was unable to put his foot down and stop himself, the light feeling in his chest, the warmth spreading all the way to his fingertips. It all felt like betrayal once he realized they had slipped back into their old ways of idle conversations, their topics reaching anything and everything; from workplace disasters, if they had any new hobbies, to the old store they always passed on the way to Nekoma. Everything but university or whatever happened right before the three years of radio silence. Kuroo had this way of eking out conversation from him, because he had spent a majority of his life speaking freely with him. 

And then he noticed they had already passed the neighborhood park thrice. 

“You ass,” he said, aiming a light kick behind Kuroo’s knees which didn’t stumble him at all, only succeeding in him laughing that ugly hyena-like noise that sounded like bells in Kenma’s ears that left him feeling just a little bit breathless. It was nothing. He was just getting sentimental. He could figure out over what when he got on that train home. 

Kuroo was grinning. “Sorry, sorry~” he said, not sorry at all. “I just know you tend to lose sight of your surroundings whenever you get riled up,” he snickered. 

Right. He wanted to get home now. 

Without another word to Kuroo, he turned towards the right path, the one that would lead them towards the bridge where they had spent lots of time practicing volleyball together. There were some fond memories there, admittedly. The first time they played and Kuroo had raised his voice to a point where Kenma could hear it, where he first began to respect him, where Kuroo had convinced him to keep playing volleyball, and where Kuroo had confessed to him, oh-so casually the day he was graduating from Nekoma. 

_I think I like you. For a long time now._

“Brings back memories,” Kuroo said. He had stopped, just a few feet behind Kenma, and was staring wistfully out at the spot by the river. They couldn’t see it now, but they both knew even in the dark where their makeshift volleyball net stood. 

Kenma moved on. Moments later, Kuroo’s footsteps followed after his and they walked in silence through the brightly-lit streets. There were people milling about and it was crowded with families, tourists, groups of friends, and most importantly couples who walked hand in hand, enjoying the cold Christmas evening together.

He snorted, pulling his scarf over his nose and stuck to the sidelines, keeping his distance from all the people. A few moments of suspicious silence passed and Kenma looked behind him. Kuroo was gone. It wouldn’t have been easy to lose him since he was over six feet tall, yet as Kenma scanned the crowd he couldn’t--- Oh. There he was. 

Kuroo was smiling; charming as usual---because he had mastered how to pull up his cheeks in the way it showed the right amount of teeth for show---as he accepted a paper bag filled with taiyaki from a nearby stall. So easily did he pick out Kenma in the crowd (or maybe his move to buy food at this time was deliberate) and it gripped his lungs seeing how Kuroo’s expression brightened up and broke his perfect smile to something less perfect, crooked, yet much more personal. Kuroo had taken only a few strides before he had caught up to Kenma. 

“Here,” he said, offering Kenma the box. It smelled sweet of perfectly crispy batter and adzuki filling. “For the road,” 

“I’m not hungry,” Kenma told him. 

“Kenma, you were picking at your food earlier. Barely ate a thing,” he snorted. “Just take it. I know you hate preparing food and you like sweet things, and I know I must have ruined your appetite so---”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll take it,” he said, taking the box. It was warm, and so were Kuroo’s fingers as he brushed against them with his hands. 

Again came that crooked smile.

He hated it. He hated so bad. 

Whatever Kuroo was doing, he had better stop it. Whatever scheme this was, he should stop it, because Kenma could see right through him, and… and…

“Well come on, let’s get going to the station,” Kuroo said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

He nodded, and followed behind him. If there was anything good to be taken from this situation, it was how Kuroo parted any crowd in front of him, so Kenma who stuck behind didn’t have to deal with all the people coming close and could attend to whatever handheld or phone game that consumed his attention at the time. But tonight there was nothing occupying his mind other than Kuroo, who acted like things were okay; who acted like there wasn’t a great rift between them, even as he walked just a two feet behind; who acted like their close proximity didn’t feel like forcing a healing wound to split apart and bleed open. 

Or was it just him who felt that way? 

Maybe Kuroo had already moved on. He had gone to America and he had said anything and everything could happen there, so perhaps moving on was one of those things that were possible. 

_I. Think. Stay. Here._

Maybe what he said was _I think it was good I didn’t stay here._

Kenma bit his lip. His chest throbbed. Yes. Yes, it was good he didn’t stay here. It was good they were nearing the station. After this, they wouldn’t ever see each other ever again. After this, they could part ways and hopefully never see each other again. Kuroo had already moved on, and as for himself he---

Kuroo’s back met his face. It was firm and wide, and it hadn’t changed at all. He would know. He had spent many moments of his life hugging it, laying over it, being pressed against it. Mornings waking up and it was the first thing he’d see; mornings where he was grateful it shielded him from the sun. And while he was remembering all this, he had neglected to push himself away from it. 

“Hey, there used to be that old karaoke place there,” Kuroo pointed at a building nearby. An electronics store stood in its place. 

Kenma took a step back, tugging the scarf to cover his face further. “Yeah, it’s been there for a few months now,” he mumbled. Things were always changing around this part of the city, and while Kuroo was away they had changed faster than ever. 

“Show me the other places,” Kuroo said. 

“Ugh,” Kenma scoffed. 

Kuroo frowned. 

Kenma felt a stab of guilt. Even if he wasn’t very keen on spending the rest of his evening wandering around, he supposed he could spare 30 minutes. He glanced at his wristwatch (“Wow, you wear those things now?”) and saw it was around 10:34PM. Walking around the neighborhood really burnt up some time and here he was, about to spend thirty more minutes just to show Kuroo the places that have changed over the past few years. Thirty more minutes to convince himself he was only indulging Kuroo because tonight would be the last time they’d ever see each other. 

“Thirty minutes. And I lead the way.” He said, ignoring how the rest of Kuroo’s lips turned upward. 

So he took Kuroo further into the city they frequented as highschoolers. The game store Kenma liked had closed its branch a year ago, and was now replaced by a real estate agency. The sporting goods store was still standing, but the space beside had been put up for rent for a month now. This ramen restaurant, that clothing store, that art supplies store, so on and so forth. For each place that Kenma showed, Kuroo had a story to accompany it. Sometimes the story was just about him, sometimes both of them, and sometimes he recalled stories about Kenma that Kenma didn’t think _anyone_ would have remembered because he had told Kuroo about it a long, long time ago. Like that time where he had skipped out on volleyball practice to go line up for a brand new MonHun game and Kuroo had caught him on the way home, giving him a severe scolding after, but accompanied him to the store after practice anyway. Or that time their team won those practice matches against Karasuno so the next day he gave Kenma a small box of his favorite apple pie. Thinking about it now, it wasn’t a reward but bribery: in exchange for this one box of apple pie, Kenma would work twice as hard to get their team to Nationals. Then the day they lost Nationals and all went home, he remembered they had stopped by this particular convenience store and bought themselves some nice drinks before walking back to the bridge where Kenma set for Kuroo for an hour, because he knew Kuroo would rather let his frustration show through a mean spike than his face. 

At some point he noticed it. How Kuroo was stalling, and how he took his time going through each story, eking out more conversation from Kenma. At some point Kenma noticed he had stopped caring as Kuroo went on and on about something Nekoma and their feet carried them through the city. Kenma listened and replied to him for indulgence’s sake. At some point he realized his chest was light like it was being buoyed by all this conversation; the fond memories it recalled but at the same time it was all too easily embittered by what had occured between them. The stagnation. The fight. The silence. Then his slow, painful climb towards acceptance. Only to be knocked back down the rocky hill when Kuroo had opened the door a few hours ago. 

Ah, his heart ached like he had taken a spike to the chest. Kuroo’s. 

And Kuroo was too distracted by a grocery store to notice. So Kenma took a deep breath and let some fog puff out his mouth. The sharp cold air replaced the feeling with a different pain that pricked through his chest and lungs, telling himself to let it go because after this it was over, and it felt better. And Kuroo moved on, now having fallen into a satisfied silence, simply observing or reminiscing to himself. 

After a few more minutes of walking, Kenma casually checked his watch and cursed. Over an hour had passed like nothing, and now they had to take 15 minutes to walk back to the station. All Kuroo had to say to this was “oh shit,” before he turned his heel and began walking the other direction whilst Kenma had to maintain a half-jog to even keep up. Kuroo snickered and slowed down, teasing him. “Looks like someone’s not working out anymore~” 

“Oh shut it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Your legs are just too long,” 

“Hey, I got taller too, if you’d believe it,” he grinned, patting the top of his head and drawing a line to indicate the difference between their heights. “I can carry you, if you’d like,” 

He simply rolled his eyes at that. Then when he realized the reason why he rejected the proposal was because they were in public and not because Kuroo was his ex, he was annoyed at himself, then at Kuroo, then used that energy to power his walk to the station. Their time together was nearing its end, and he knew the knot inside his chest wouldn’t loosen until Kuroo was gone. Once Kuroo bought his ticket and got on the train, Kenma would go his merry way home and spend the night doing whatever, a game, a movie, or maybe go to bed early because he was already predicting the moment Kuroo’s train went out of sight, he’d be exhausted. Slipping into a warm bed with thick blankets piled over him sounded heavenly right now. 

It was 11:42 by the time they got to the station. Kenma’s legs ached slightly while Kuroo didn’t even break a sweat. Since the train station was closing very soon there were only a handful of people around, most of whom were already exiting the station. They were taking the same line, unfortunately prolonging their time together, but for the last 10 minutes of each other, Kenma could endure it. Kenma could endure having just the two of them in this station. Kenma could endure their habit of sitting side by side for the sake of old times and last times. Kenma could endure how Kuroo’s long legs pressed against his knee, whether intentionally or not. He could endure how warmth seemed to radiate off his body, and he caught himself thinking about how between the two of them, Kuroo’s body temperature ran higher so he wore less layers. He loved it before. Being pressed close to Kuroo was one of his favorite things and this was the closest he’d allow himself to get tonight. See? The indulgence worked both ways. 

Every once in a while a passing train interrupted his thoughts briefly and he sat a little straighter, anticipating Kuroo to stand up and say goodbye, but it always came from the other side of the tracks. Once, twice, this happened. Third time’s the charm, and finally Kuroo’s train pulled up. Kuroo stood up and Kenma was compelled to stand with him. Without a word he took a few steps towards the train’s open doors and then stopped, turning around to face Kenma. His expression was unreadable and his throat constricted to see Kuroo like this. So inaccessible. Foreign. And yet Kenma knew all too well what this face meant. 

Kuroo was upset. 

And the little pinprick of hope in his chest had ripped open like a bullet had gone through it. 

For a second, something flickered in Kuroo’s eyes and he broke out into a grin. “This is it, it seems,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “The last goodbye,”

“Kuro...” Speaking his name felt like breaking a spell. One that had been cast a long time ago. 

“It was pretty good while it lasted, huh?” Kuroo grinned. The corners of his eyes wrinkled a bit too much. His voice was too strained to sound happy. Kenma’s throat constricted and it was difficult to breathe. 

“It’s waiting for you,” he managed to say. Get on the train and leave. Go away. 

“Man, you’ve changed a lot,” he said, scratching his head. The grin on his face persisted, even if it hurt both of them. “You’re all taller, have your own business…” 

He wanted to say _Kuro, go._ But his throat had seemingly dried up and refused to let any words pass through. Suddenly a myriad of thoughts were entering his mind. The train’s open doors. Kuroo standing behind the yellow line. The emptiness of the station. 11:53PM. Why wasn’t Kuroo getting on? Why did he keep talking? Shouldn’t… Shouldn’t he be going by now? For as long as the precious time before the train left afforded him, he kept this idea at bay. He had been fighting it off ever since he agreed to be civil: the fact Kuroo was extending what little time they will ever have with each other for as long as he could was because he wanted to stay. There was only one reason as to why that could be. Kenma opened his mouth to speak. 

“Kuro, are you still in love with me?” 

Kuroo became quiet. His head drooped down as if he was bowing. The light shining from behind him darkened his face so that Kenma couldn’t see it at all. 

“Kuro,” Kenma urged him. _Please,_ he hoped so hard his palms hurt from clenching his fists, _don’t say yes. Don’t do this to me. Don’t._ He begged, and he begged, and he begged with such fervent silence he barely heard Kuroo over the sharp hiss of the train doors. 

“No,” Kuroo finally said. Behind him the last train began to move. 

“Your train is leaving.”

“I know,” Kuroo said, raising his head. His jaw is clenched and he follows the train with his gaze. After a second he sighed a puff of fog, then scratched the side of his cheek. “Man, I guess I missed my ride, huh.”

The question just burst out of Kenma. “Why didn’t you go?” 

“You should ask yourself that. _You_ could have gotten on the train.”

Kenma’s eyes widened. He was right. They were taking the same line. How could he have missed that? 

Kuroo patted him on the shoulder as he passed by, a mischievous grin on his face. So brief and so light that he might as well have imagined it. “Well, you’ve always been the type to lose sight of your surroundings once you get fired up,” he snickered, turning away rather quickly. “Kidding, kidding. I’m just flattering myself here,” he mumbled to himself. 

Kenma was just dumbfounded. He hoped the cold weather explained the pink blush around Kuroo’s cheeks. He followed after him and watched as he crumpled his ticket in his hands and threw it in the trash. Again he couldn’t help himself and asked, “Where will you stay now?” 

That stopped Kuroo. He shrugged, nonchalant and confident, that grin now plastered on his face. “Dunno. But while we’re still alive and kicking tonight, why don’t you join me for a drink?”

No.

Of course he wouldn’t. 

That was an objectively terrible idea. 

Which is exactly why he had absolutely no idea what compelled him to follow Kuroo out of the station that night. He consoled himself by saying, over and over, Kuroo didn’t love him anymore and he was simply indulging him for the last time. After he’d have a drink or two, he’d hail a cab and go home. Kuroo could go find somewhere else to stay in and they would cut contact. As for himself, he wouldn’t drink much at all. Alcohol wasn’t his thing; never liked the taste and never liked the smell. In fact it took Kuroo a while to convince him to even have a sip of beer when he hit 18. It was a rite of passage for every teenager, he said. All teens were at least a little curious. Kenma tried it out and hated it. And in the future this hate wouldn’t lessen, with Kenma only mitigating it by finding alcohol he liked. The nice sweet ones that barely tasted like it. 

“Just a glass of _momo-shu,_ ” he told the waiter after they were comfortably seated. Kuroo had taken off his coat like Kenma had and maybe it was the dim orange light but Kuroo had somehow gotten more built while he was away. Kenma had to force his eyes to observe the shiny grain of the hardwood table instead. Kuroo ordered some whiskey on the rocks. He had taken Kenma to this quaint-looking speakeasy, and he was surprised it was even open on Christmas. Then again he noticed they weren’t the only ones there. Though those in attendance were nothing more than a smattering of folks (mostly old and alone) perhaps places like these kept open to keep them company in times like these. He and Kuroo were tucked away in the corner, spaced away from the other patrons. Soft jazz played from somewhere, melting into the quiet and rustic atmosphere. While drinking Kuroo mentioned that he discovered this place through a coworker and that they’d been here a few times. 

Likely the momo-shu was at fault here. The sweet peach wine was of a deceptively decent alcohol content, which left a gap in his defenses, allowing a stab of envy to strike his chest. 

“With some other co-workers,” Kuroo added quickly after, as if to reassure him. “For networking purposes, of course.” Kenma took another sip of peach wine, slower this time. Once he finished this glass, he’d stand up, say his goodbyes and good-riddances, take a cab home, and fall asleep wishing he wouldn’t have a hangover the next day.

As with the rest of his evening, his supposed plans would go in an unexpected direction. Frustration began to settle into him halfway through his third glass of momo-shu, as he listened to Kuroo talk more about his work, the hospital he was working in, sometimes even touching upon the chemistry of his drinks. Did he know a single drop of water radically altered the structure of whiskey? Did he know that whiskey was actually clear and the color came from the aging process? 

“You’re such a nerd,” Kenma said. He sighed, and leaned back into the seats. His body relaxed and there was a faint buzz to his senses, his throat warm and tasting of peaches. “That’s why you went into biochem, you nerd…”

“You know it,” Kuroo chuckled. “I love figuring all that complicated stuff out. Be it chemicals, volleyball strategies,” he drained his whiskey, staring at Kenma as he did so, “People. And I know you like it, too. Still playing video games, I assume?”

Kenma snorted. “More than that. I stream now,” 

Kuroo’s brow quirked up. “Do tell,” 

So Kenma told him about his little gig. Kenma knew the first parts, where he had been uploading his gameplay footage since he was in his second year of highschool, but because of volleyball practice he couldn’t really fully devote himself to the channel. Same issue when they were in university, having to keep up with class and their relationship---

Right. 

The blunder was more than enough to have him pause. Kuroo was staring at his glass empty of whiskey, swirling the watery remainder of ice in it. “Go on,” Kuroo says, not looking up. The ice clinked together louder than the music. Kenma felt as if he were being tested; as if paying attention to his little slip of tongue was the wrong choice. Quickly skipped over that part and said his channel started gaining traction a year ago, and now his numbers have been on the rise ever since. Part of the revenues went to his games, his business, and his stocks. Kuroo told him he sounded pretty set in life, a crooked grin on his face, and he took a moment to say yes, he was pretty set in life, and there was nothing else he could ask for. 

“Not even a boyfriend?” 

He choked on his drink and coughed while Kuroo cackled in the background. A few patrons turned their heads and he quieted down, still chuckling to himself. 

“Kidding, kidding! You’re an independent businessman, you don’t need no man~” He grinned, the corners of his lips pulling up a bit too much. 

“You’re the worst,” Kenma said, coughing and clearing his throat. “Why would I---” 

“Yeah, why would you?” He smirked, looking triumphant, like he was confident there wasn’t going to be anyone else for Kenma to love but him. Where did he get that from? 

“Like _you’re_ any different,” Kenma huffed. “You liar.” 

Because why else would Kuroo pull all these delaying tactics? Why else would he miss his own train? Why else would he make a face right now, like someone had acted unexpectedly, causing his plans to come undone. 

Kuroo simply rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and slumped in his seat like a fuming child. “I’ll have you know I did get a girlfriend in America. Her name was Emily, and we dated for a year. Hah.” 

Kenma narrowed his eyes. He bit on his tongue to hold himself back from saying anything, the pain easing the little twist of displeasure in his stomach. He eyed the remainder of momo-shu in his glass, thinking that after this last one, he’d had about enough of Kuroo’s company for good. Kuroo swiped it away before he could even take it. Kuroo drained it all in one gulp, a single bead of liquor rolling down his throat, escaping past his collar, and all of a sudden Kenma’s throat became parched. He swallowed, hard, and narrowed his eyes at Kuroo. Without meaning to, the words slipped out of his mouth. “You’re buying me another drink,” 

And to his surprise Kuroo didn’t take the opportunity to do so. When he waved the waiter over it was simply to fetch the tab. He shook his head and told Kenma he already had enough for the night, and they should start hailing him a cab home. Like dropping a rock in still water, ripples of disappointment went through Kenma, and he took a deep breath. “Fine,” he says, huffing. He pushed himself to his feet but wobbled, and he caught the edge of the table to steady himself. A slight swirl in his vision, a heaviness to his head. In the corner of his eye, Kuroo moved to help him but he raised a hand and shook his head. “I’m okay, I can stand up by myself,” he muttered.

“I should have seen this coming,” Kuroo said. “You’re a lightweight. How could I forget?”

Did he really forget? Because he wouldn’t have offered a _speakeasy_ of all places to go to if that were truly the case. 

Kuroo nodded but kept a close eye on him as they walked out of the speakeasy. His steps were unsteady and slow. As if prepared to catch him at any moment, Kuroo held out his arm behind his back and his skin was bristling with goosebumps thinking about the touch. It was even colder than before, his fingers quickly turning numb, attacking his legs despite the warmth of the peach wine settled in his face and chest. 

A strong gust of wind blew over him and he stumbled over, stopped short of eating the curb by Kuroo’s extended arm. Kuroo pulled him close and warmth suddenly found its way back to Kenma’s legs and fingers, his face now ablaze; chest pounding wildly. Tipsiness. Purely tipsiness. 

“It’s okay, lean on me,” Kuroo said, his voice so soft Kenma couldn’t hear his usual smugness. A gentle tone he knew so well. His chest hurt, but he wanted to hear more of it, so he stayed close, head pressed against his arm. His hand had snaked behind Kuroo’s back to hold onto the belt of his coat, clenched tight. Together they walked, slowly and more steadily down the street. Around this corner of the city there weren’t any people out. It was just the two of them, out in the cold, tipsy (at least he was), and clinging onto each other for warmth. Having awareness of this was sobering enough, and yet Kenma found he couldn’t let go of Kuroo at all. 

Pathetic. 

After a few minutes Kuroo found a bench to gently deposit him onto. He took a seat beside him and opened up Zenkoku Taxi. “I’m taking you to a motel,” he said. And once again Kenma felt as if a stone had been dropped in the pit of his stomach, sending ripples of some sensation throughout his body. “After that I’ll leave. I’m sure that’s what you want,” he chuckled. 

“Kuro, did you really have a girlfriend?” The question sprang out; having been coiled tightly in his mind and he hadn’t noticed at all, not even one bit. 

Kuroo’s phone’s screen dimmed. He was staring at the empty street, hunched with his elbows on his knees. Quiet, like he didn’t hear the question. Kenma stared, waiting for him to speak and just as he opened his mouth, his phone buzzed and Kenma caught his brief pause before saying the driver was there. Kuroo stood up and held out his hand and Kenma took it, before he was gently pulled into Kuroo’s chest. Warm, for a second, before he steadied Kenma, putting his hands on his shoulders. 

The cab pulled up beside them. Kuroo opened the door for him and Kenma wordlessly got inside. The question burned in the back of his mind as he leaned against the window. The driver confirmed they were indeed going to a motel, and Kuroo nodded. Again that feeling made itself apparent through Kenma’s body. The flush of his fingers; the flutter of his stomach. He shifted in discomfort, and noticing this, Kuroo placed a hand on his head, rubbing gently. Kenma turned his head away, angling his body away from the touch, trying his hardest to ignore the tingle in his ears when Kuroo pulled his hand away. 

As the car drove down the street, Kenma stole glances of Kuroo sitting at the edge furthest away from him, his gaze directed at the streets. He was a dark silhouette against the bright window, and Kenma could only see the edges of his face. Down on the seats was his hand, and Kenma contemplated how easy it would be to reach over and place his above it. To slip his fingers between Kuroo’s and hold hands in the darkness as they did in many taxis before. His finger twitched. It did not move. Kenma felt his pulse in his throat. Kuroo turned his head. Their eyes met. He opened his mouth and so did Kuroo, and they both started the same way:

“Sorry,” 

Sorry for looking. 

Sorry for getting caught. 

Sorry for everything. 

After a single shared glance, Kenma forced his eyes to his feet as if in shame. He balled up his fists and didn’t move until the car stopped and Kuroo had gotten out. He followed right after, this time without taking the hand Kuroo held out for him. Even when he staggered and nearly fell over. Steadying himself, he saw the motel. It wasn’t anything egregious, or shockingly sexual. It was as discreet as such places went, and Kuroo knew someplace like this would make him feel more at ease.

They had been here before after all. Multiple times, as lovers.

Again, this feeling of trepidation---goosebumps, warmth, whatever he decided to label it---reared itself and suddenly he was feeling the pressure of Kuroo’s hand on his shoulder a little bit too much; and his legs were moving a little bit too fast towards the entrance; and his head was a little bit too light to stop himself. He stood wordlessly in front of the receptionist who admitted them into a room with a single bed inside. 

“Come on,” Kuroo said, gently ushering him to the elevator. His hand had travelled down to Kenma’s waist, pulling him up against his body. Like this, Kenma’s coat and all the layers he wore became unbearable. Far too hot and chafing too much against his skin which was speckled with goosebumps. 

After reaching their room, Kuroo led him to the bed and sat him down there. The bed creaked and the sheets shifted under Kenma’s weight. Out of pure curiosity, he tested if the bed was still the same as before by bouncing on it. Then he bounced again, and again, finding amusement in it until he heard Kuroo snort. He was seated by the headboard, looking through the contents of the drawers. Embarrassed, he turned away and flopped onto his side, staring at Kuroo’s back until he turned around and Kenma closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Let’s just do it already. That’s why we’re here, right?” His voice was a grumble of defeat.

Kuroo frowned. Then his expression turned angry as he pushed himself off the bed. “Is _that_ what you think this is? Do you think I would really…” He groaned with frustration, scratching his head. “Of course. You still think I’m some sort of asshole, don’t you? Fucking hell…” He snorted, and turned to leave. 

Kuroo had his hand on the door handle before Kenma said something. 

“Wait.” It came out before he could stop himself, palms wide and outstretched, but it quickly withered into a delicate fist when Kuroo turned around, his face unimpressed. “Come back. I’m sorry. For saying all of that. All of it. Come back.” His voice cracked, and his head lowered. 

A moment passed, and he heard the handle click. The door swung open. 

Then shut.

Then the bed creaked as Kuroo sat down in the corner with a deep, resigned sigh. “Looks like I still can’t say no to you.” Kuroo laid down on the bed and closed his eyes, breathing through his nose. He looked like he was going to fall asleep but then his eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. “I didn’t get a girlfriend. I lied. Sor---”

“Kuro, _I’m_ the one who should be sorry. Not just for tonight, but for… for back then.” He gripped his fists tightly; so tightly his knuckles were stark white and felt as if it could break through skin. Memories he had forced deep down in his mind resurfaced, painful and sharp as if armed with teeth. 

Three years ago, they had an argument. 

He wasn’t going to try and excuse himself by saying it came out of nowhere. No, because he had already passed over these memories countless times, dissecting the arguments and what had happened before it all started. At the very least he could say it was a result of many things that had accumulated over their years together, both as friends and as a couple. 

One night, Kuroo had come home, drenched, to their shared apartment and saw the laundry had been left unattended outside and was soaked in the rain. Kenma had fallen asleep and had missed out on taking the clothes inside. Kuroo hadn’t blamed him of course, but he was reasonably upset for a while. It wasn’t anything major, not at all. It was an accident and such things happened all the time. But inconspicuous incidents like these somehow ended up contributing to the fact that Kuroo thought Kenma didn’t love him enough. 

God, he doesn’t even know the words they used anymore, or what had transpired in that fight. All he could remember was that Kuroo had thought that he wasn’t putting enough into the relationship. That Kenma had gotten complacent because they knew each other so well, and understood each other because all their lives they had been best friends. What he didn’t understand was the different dimensions of being in a relationship that went further than friendship. Back then, Kenma thought he knew. They’ve done more! They’ve kissed and had sex and told each other “I love you” and all that. What he didn’t understand was the little things. The extra things, which he had neglected because like Kuroo said, he had gotten too comfortable. Kenma was confused at this because he thought that was what made them work so well. They were comfortable with each other and knew each other in and out. Back then he thought: _How come it was wrong to act the way he usually did? What more did Kuro want from me?_

_Am I not enough as I am?_

Alongside their little squabbles was the stress of university. They both had grades to keep, and being in different majors and the fact Kuroo still continued playing for the university team, he couldn’t sit down and teach Kenma things anymore, so Kenma had to pull his own weight with grades. What quality time they got to spend together diminished the closer they got to finals or other major tests; tensions ran high as stress increased, and their little arguments blew up into fights that resulted in ignoring each other’s presence. Because they knew each other so well, they also knew it was best to simply steer clear of one another until somebody caved in and initiated some contact.

It was always Kuroo who did that. It was always who started things between them; who encouraged Kenma to do something. Led him to achieve things. It was always him.

Kuroo knew this, too. 

He used it against him when they had that big argument. He said he didn’t feel loved, even though it wasn’t true, but when Kuroo told him about all the things other people did for the people they loved, Kenma felt that maybe what Kuroo said _was_ true. And that he could be doing more, but he just… didn’t. So when Kuroo did ask him if he really loved him, he couldn’t answer. 

So they broke up. 

And because they knew each other so well, they opted for silence and distance. One that stretched for miles and miles on end; one they kept from their parents. One that Kenma kept even when Kuroo’s grandmother died, and he was too stubborn, too hurt to console his best friend. Of course he felt horrible. Of course he felt like an asshole. But at the time he thought he would be the last person Kuroo would want to see. Consumed by the guilt, he told himself he didn’t deserve to try it with Kuroo again, and so he stayed away. 

“I was so stupid to think like that, Kuro. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to stop being so prideful and… and… I just wish I did things differently. I wish…” Pushing out the last few words of his sentence was painful. “I wish I had become someone else for you.” 

Silence.

Kuroo stayed silent for a while, processing what he said. Then he looked away and Kenma’s chest twinged with pain. 

“It did hurt.” Kuroo said. “I won’t lie to you, but when I heard the news, I was waiting, maybe subconsciously, for a call or even a text from you. Anything, really. When the funeral happened, I saw you and I was waiting.”

“But I never approached you.”

Kuroo smiled sadly. “You didn’t. It really, _really_ hurt, Kenma.” 

Deep inside his chest, Kenma felt something break. Like glass, the shards of guilt pierced his ribs and he let out a shuddery breath. Head bowed, he was mustering the courage to apologize again, with all the sincerity he could muster. All the honesty he could squeeze out of himself. To the point that tears pricked his eyes. “Kuro, I…”

“Despite all that, I still can’t bring myself to hate you. You had your reasons and---”

“Will you stop being so goddamn considerate of me all the time?” Kenma’s voice cracked again. “Let me be wrong so I can say sorry. Let me be wrong so you van get mad at me. Please, _please,_ Kuro. Get angry at me. I deserve it.” 

“Kenma, I… I can’t. I can’t hate you. I’m still…” Kuroo trails off. The pained look in his eyes was telling. 

He didn’t need to hear anymore. All at once a myriad of emotions swelled and swirled inside of him. Confusion. Relief. Bitterness. Happiness. The last of which he wanted to deny himself because of what he had done to Kuroo, and what he had lacked. He gripped the sheets tightly. “You lied to me at the station.”

“...I did.” 

“So can you please lie to me again and tell me you forgive me.” 

Kenma waited for his response. He waited for the words that would deliberately destroy what semblance of happiness he had remaining; for it to be taken away because he didn’t deserve such a thing. Not after what he did. Not after all this time. Whatever Kuroo would say now, be it “I forgive you” or “I don’t forgive you” Kenma would still hear the crushing admission that he was still in the wrong, and that Kuroo at the very least resented him until now. 

“Kozume Kenma,” 

The use of his full name had Kenma flinching. Try as he might to prepare himself, he didn’t anticipate what he’d hear next. 

“After all these years, I am still in love with you.” 

Kenma’s eyes widened. Kuroo’s face was still and serious. “Please be lying.”

Kuroo shook his head. “I’m not lying.”

Kenma’s voice _broke_ as he pleaded. “Kuro, please…”

“I don’t want to lie to you again. So trust me when I say I love you, and I never stopped loving you, and...” 

“I don’t--- I don’t deserve this. Why won’t you move on?”

“Because it’s… just _you._ There’s nobody else like you, not even in America. Not anywhere else.”

“I’m a horrible person.”

“Well, you’ve always told me I had shit taste,” Kuroo said, chuckling. 

The way he made light of such situations had Kenma’s heart throbbing painfully. “Don’t… Don’t make jokes right now. This is serious.” 

When Kuroo took him into his arms, Kenma broke. Held together by his arms, Kenma, tense throughout the whole ordeal, melted. Hot tears spilled from his eyes. His hands, betraying him, held on with desperation. He didn’t want to let go. He never _ever_ wanted to let go of him again. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kuroo said softly, an attempt to soothe him, gently caressing the back of his head. “But I am serious. I’m sorry we broke up.” 

“ _I’m_ sorry we broke up.” 

Kuroo chuckled, and it sounded cracked like he had been brought to tears too. He squeezed him tighter and kissed the top of his head. His body was firmer, larger, than what Kenma remembered. Or maybe he had just forgotten how Kuroo’s body felt after all his years spent alone. He sighed into his touch and even nuzzled his face into his chest. Kuroo smelled lightly of cologne and it suited him. He wanted to bask in that scent forever. For some reason Kuroo found this funny, laughing, each shake in his shoulders transferred to Kenma. 

“What?” He said, a frown forming on his face, partly because the tender little embrace had been interrupted, and partly because he had caught himself in a moment of weakness. No doubt Kuroo found that nuzzle amusing. Judging from the width of his smirk, he was correct. “You’re so annoying,” Kenma said, his face burning. 

“We just made up and you’re already picking a fight with me?” Kuroo asked, with undeniable amusement in his voice. Kenma’s heart skipped a beat. It had been so long since he heard it. Kuroo brushed a stray lock of hair from Kenma’s face before his thumb rested on Kenma’s cheek. It was one of their silent signals, and in response, Kenma blinked. 

Kuroo, slowly, leaned down to plant a light kiss on Kenma’s forehead. Kenma blinked again, this time in confusion, before looping his arms around Kuroo’s neck, and bringing his lips down to his; as if to say _over here, you dummy._ As if to say _it has been far too long._ As if to say _I want you, now._

The kiss escalated quickly. Heated and sloppy, from their eagerness and their longing; finally obtaining the chance to satisfy both. Their hands and lips roamed each other and explored with familiarity their favorite places. For Kenma it was the broad expanse of Kuroo’s back and his firm chest. For Kuroo, it was the small of his back and his waist, which he gripped tightly, his fingers hooked into the hem of his pants. A smile was curling on his lips. 

Kenma nibbled the bottom of his lip before pulling away. “Eager?” He asked, with a grin of his own forming. He spoke as if he could wait a little longer, but the truth was evident from the way he was tugging down Kuroo’s coat. 

Of course, Kuroo hit back with a “Speak for yourself,” before they joined lips again, and one by one they shed their clothing, slipping out of their coats and shirts, kicking off their shoes. Stripping down until they were both left in their underwear. Impatient and keen, at the same time reveling in each other, for what they had missed and what’s new. Slowly, as if savoring every inch of skin his palms covered, Kuroo explored him. He found enjoyment in the softness of his flesh, kneading and squeezing every chance he got. Underneath this tenderness was a hunger Kenma was familiar with, already manifesting as Kuroo trailed his kisses from his lips and down to his neck and shoulders---where he knew Kenma was the most sensitive.

“Ngh,” his moan was soft, barely audible, but it was enough to have Kuroo suck harder against his skin and slip a hand down to cup his cock, hard and straining against his boxers. Kuroo squeezed, and Kenma shuddered. He placed both hands on Kuroo’s chest and pushed until he fell on his back, his eyes widened with surprise for a second until that smarmy grin of his came back. 

“Oh?” His grin tugged higher on one side of his lips, rising as Kenma straddled his hips and ground their hard cocks together. The way his fingers trembled as soon as he held Kenma’s sides were telling, though; when he licked his lips and shifted his hips; the lascivious look in his eyes that had Kenma’s skin erupt into goosebumps. Kuroo wanted it---now.

“Shut up,” Kenma muttered before he could say anything more. He reached for the drawers and found a bottle of lube. At the sight of him pouring the liquid over his fingers, Kuroo twitched against him and gripped his thighs tighter. Kenma raised his hips and without a word Kuroo worked on lowering his boxers until his cock popped free. Kenma missed his obedience as well. Kenma licked his lips and warmed the lube in his hands before tipping forward until his face was directly above Kuroo’s. 

Whatever awkwardness he expected, as he hasn’t exactly done anything sexual with anyone since Kuroo, had evaporated when it was so painfully undeniable how much Kuroo was enjoying this. He looked _hungry_ underneath Kenma, and his eyes flickered with desire as Kenma emitted a low groan once he began fingering himself. Kuroo stroked outside his thighs, encouraging him to keep going, deeper inside, with that husky low voice of his that caused tremors all over his body. And when he faltered for a moment, Kuroo placed his hand above his and pressed down, making Kenma’s fingers probe deeper inside of himself. His other hand kept a tight grip spreading his asscheeks. 

“W-wait…!” Kenma groaned, lowering his chest close enough for Kuroo to start nipping at his neck; the evil smile against his skin unmistakable. His cock was leaking as this continued, and Kuroo’s twitched against his stomach. 

“Nuh-uh,” Kuroo whispered against his ear, eliciting shivers from him. “It’s been way too long for me to go easy on you tonight, kitten.” 

_Kitten._

That word did nothing but undo something in Kenma. He groaned out loud as he pulled his fingers out and righted himself. Kuroo twitched just below him, his hands once again taking place on his hips. He guided his head to his entrance and licking his lips, lowered himself slowly, the first inch twitching against the ring of muscle before Kuroo slammed him down, hilting himself inside. Kenma groaned, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Barely had he adjusted to Kuroo’s girth before he began pounding inside, and Kenma couldn’t do much but bounce and move his hips in sync with him, moaning and groaning like he had never known such pleasure in his life. It had been too long; too goddamn long since they had touched and kissed and fucked like this. 

Despite all the years they still knew what the other liked. For him, Kenma would do exactly all that. He ground his hips and moaned his name---loud, the way Kuroo liked it. Wantonly, and full of need. Not because he was forced to, no. It came as naturally as a bubble popping. And Kuroo responded in kind, thrusting where Kenma liked it the most, the deepest parts of him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears. Their labored breaths and moans of pleasure mingled in the air as they fucked and fucked _hard._ It didn’t take long for them to reach their climax. Feeling each other’s thrusts become more desperate, more erratic, skin slapping wetly against skin. Kenma’s cock bounced up and down as Kuroo’s thrusting hit his prostate over and over, flicking strands of precum all over Kuroo’s stomach. Once Kuroo started pumping it in time with his thrusts he gasped loudly, shuddered, and arched his back, spilling his cum all over Kuroo’s palms until it was sticky. Kuroo didn’t stop jerking his sensitive cock off, despite all his pleas, as he thrust mercilessly into Kenma. Once, twice, thrice; a single hand kept Kenma in place as he pushed himself in as deep as he could go, before cumming with a loud groan, filling Kenma’s insides. 

Kenma collapsed over his chest, absolutely spent. Kuroo’s heartbeat was pulsing under his skin and Kenma could feel his own too, beating in sync. A pair of strong arms latched over his back, pulling him into a tight hug. And then he laughed, of all things, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips before bringing them to Kenma’s forehead, blessing it with all sorts of kisses. If Kenma could be anymore flushed, he would be. 

“You’re so embarras---mmph…” Interrupted by Kuroo’s kiss, Kenma had no choice but to kiss back. It was lazy and tender, while Kuroo stroked all sorts of shapes over Kenma’s ass, no doubt raw and red right now. Sure felt like it. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Kuroo said while pulling away, breathless again. He threw his head back and grinned. “I love you, so much.”

“Love you too,” Kenma mumbled back, his face flushing again. _Always have. Always will._ But he was too embarrassed to say this, so he buried his face in the crook of Kuroo’s neck and breathed in the scent of skin, salty from sweat with faint traces of cologne. He was still a bit dazed from all of that. The reality of it all hadn’t sunken in yet as they both basked in the afterglow. Still, he didn’t want to be anywhere but here, with Kuroo in his arms. Or with him in Kuroo’s arms, rather. 

Kuroo kissed him again, on the top of his head. Tender, as always. He was always fond of kissing there, and maybe he knew, but Kenma liked them too. Of _his_ kisses in particular. How he missed it. He grinned, all smarmy like he had proven some sort of point. Back to smug-mode, it seemed. “So…?” He said, his tone expectant. 

“So we take a shower,” Kenma mumbled against his neck. Then he yawned. “I’m sleepy.” 

Kuroo snorted. “Not that,” 

“Tomorrow,” Kenma said, kissing his jaw. Just like old times. “We’ll still be together. Plenty of time to talk then.” 

And Kuroo seemed to accept that, chuckling again and nodding. “You’re right.” 

They both cleaned up quickly in the shower, with no “funny business” (as Kenma put it) occurring. For a few minutes they both sat in the tub in peace, relaxing in the warm water. Once finished, they dried off and the weariness of having having sex so early in the morning (around 1AM when Kenma checked his phone) caught up to them. They discarded the dirty blanket along with their clothes and slipped under the covers, naked but rather comfortable. 

“I still can’t believe it,” Kuroo said after they had turned off the lights. “I’m with you again.” 

Having come off the high of his orgasm, a twinge of guilt ran through Kenma. “I’ll… be different, I promise. It’s the least I can do.” 

Pulling him into his chest, Kuroo told him, “I don’t want you to be different. I want _you._ ”

“Then,” Kenma wrapped his arm around Kuroo’s back, “at least let me be better.” 

Kuroo gave a hum of consideration, then brushed a lock of hair from his face. Even in the dark Kenma blinked, and Kuroo somehow knew this, and kissed his forehead. “Only if I get to come along and be better with you.” 

They fell asleep not too long after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that! I came up with this idea a year ago, but I was busy writing my other fic, but that's done with so I wrote this one. I tried imagining what kuroken would be like if they broke up, and what kind of conflict would even make them go through such a situation, and I came up with this :D
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/danmujiji)


End file.
